buy friendship.’
‘I bought yours. At fifty grand to be exact.’
That stung. Not because it wasn’t true that it was his money funding her fabulous year of self-revelation, but because it cheapened what she would gladly have given him for free.
‘You don’t think I’d have chosen to be your friend without the Year of Georgia?’
‘We never would have met without it.’
That was true. If she’d run out of his radio station a few moments earlier or later she might have been sitting here alone. Or not at all. So much of who she was finding deep inside was because of Zander’s prompting. His goading.
She sat up straighter. Tired of the subterfuge. ‘If we’d met in a coffee shop and I’d got to know you I would have wanted to be your friend.’ Though she’d never have worked up the courage to speak to him. She’d have considered him way out of her league.
Her sub-conscious use of the past tense suddenly became remarkably apparent. Exactly when did she decide that Zander Rush was in her league?
‘Is that what we are? Friends?’
‘That’s what I think we are. Though I know you wouldn’t call it that.’
‘What would I call it?’
‘Acquaintance? Contact? Obligation?’
‘You’re not an obligation, George.’
But she was just an acquaintance? ‘I’m sure you’re not going to tell me what a great time you have trailing me all over London for my classes. Not when you bailed on the belly dancing at the first decent opportunity.’
He studied the way the dark liquid swirled in his glass. ‘I owe you an explanation about that...’
‘Is there even a Tuesday night network meeting?’
His eyes lifted. ‘There is. That’s real. But I did use it to get out of the dance class.’
She just stared.
‘I wasn’t...’ He paused and tried again. ‘I wasn’t comfortable there.’
Her jaw tightened. ‘Was it me or everyone else?’
He didn’t answer. Her stomach sank.
So it was her.
‘It’s a very confronting form of dance when you’re on the receiving end,’ he said.
‘You didn’t look too confronted.’ Until he’d looked at her. ‘I was just enjoying exploring the art form.’
The intense need to justify why she’d let herself get carried away with the sensuousness of the dance washed through her. And hot on its heels was the blazing knowledge that she owed him no apologies.
‘And you should enjoy it. It’s your thing,’ he said.
‘You’re not up to spectating on a bit of sexy dancing? You didn’t mind the salsa.’
‘Sexy would be fine. It’s just that it’s...’
Colour started to show low on his jaw. Given how dim it was under the shade-sail on the hotel roof, the fact that she could see it meant it had to be a reasonable amount. Was he blushing?
‘It’s what?’ she risked.
Embarrassing? Pathetic? Something that really shouldn’t be done in public?
His eyes lifted to hers, heated. ‘It’s erotic.’
Her breath halted. She sagged back in her seat, dumbstruck, and crossed her hands demurely in her lap. Studying them. Then she looked out into the orange glow of the city lights far below. Then the candle of the table next to them. Taking the time to decide what to say. Taking the time to remember how to speak.
She cleared her throat and had a go. ‘Erotic?’
Didn’t that suggest some kind of attraction? More than just a kiss by the sea kind of attraction? More than just chemistry.
‘It was very seductive.’
A sense of the same empowerment she’d felt dancing there in front of the mirror came back to her now. Dancing in front of the mirror had felt good because it was good, maybe? ‘It’s supposed to be seductive.’
‘We don’t have that kind of relationship.’
Polite Georgia burned to take the hint. To change the subject. But she was tired of being polite. Of doing what everyone expected her to. She kicked her chin up. ‘You don’t have that kind of relationship with the other women there, either, but you weren’t running a mile from them.’
Just her.
The light came on in her mind as slow and golden as the lights of Göreme had glowed to life. But just as certain.
Just her.
She took a breath and whispered, ‘You liked it.’
He didn’t look away. But he didn’t speak. He let her three words hang out there over the city, unanswered, for eternity. But finally he spoke.
‘I loved it. And I shouldn’t have.’
Heat to match his flared up her throat. Her gut tightened way down low. He’d loved her sensual display. ‘Why?’
‘Because we don’t have that kind of relationship,’ he repeated, his frustrated hiss more at himself than her.
She took a breath. Took a chance. ‘Why don’t we?’
He stared. ‘What?’
‘Why don’t we have that relationship?’
‘I’m... You’re... We’re doing business.’
‘Why can’t it be more?’
Those all-seeing eyes suddenly darted everywhere but her. ‘I don’t do relationships. Not of that kind.’
It was true. In the months she’d known him he never once said he couldn’t do a class because he had a date. Never once mentioned anyone in his life. ‘What kind do you do?’
His eyes flicked up. ‘I have...encounters. Short and sharp. Over before they start.’
‘One-night stands, you mean?’
‘Sometimes more. But never much more.’
‘Why?’
His eyes shadowed over.
‘Don’t you get lonely?’ she breathed.
‘There are worse things than being lonely.’
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